Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
by bulmablue-eyes
Summary: Harry leads the evolved Dumbledore's Army into the final battle. Who will survive and who will die? Will Harry survive yet another showdown with Lord Voldemort? How I think the title suggests DH will end. A oneshot of the final battle.


**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be panicking over how I'm going to fund the next term at Uni… I'd be laughing at how much I've made the fans suffer with this grim, foreboding title.

Harry Potter marched onto the grounds outside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his eyes filled with a cold, hard determination that had never been seen there before. The harsh wind swept through his hair, as, on that cold Halloween night, aged just eighteen, he led an army of witches and wizards into the final battle against the most evil serpent, that most cruel spectre that had evaded defeat by the light for nearly three decades.

Directly behind Harry were his best and most loyal friends. Hermione Granger's pale face was steely and focused, her eyes refusing to expose the almost paralysing fear that resided behind them. Ron Weasley's face was white; so white his freckles stood out like blood spilt on snow. Where there was once laughter and jokes, his eyes now held a fierce resolve – they had to beat this, once and for all. Despite their very different personalities, their own individual priorities in life, all three friends had one thought in mind – no matter what the end, this ended tonight.

Behind the trio, many more witches and wizards followed the Boy Who Lived to fight, possibly die, for the light. Molly and Arthur Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, Luna Lovegood, Lavendar Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, Filius Flitwick, Rolanda Hooch, Poppy Pomfrey, Horace Slughorn and Pomona Sprout, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Aberforth Dumbledore, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, and so many more. It was Dumbledore's Army; hundreds of wizards, witches, warlocks, muggles and squibs, some that Harry recognised, some that he didn't, now followed the dark-haired, skinny young wizard into battle against a foe that had, for many years, killed their friends and family one by one.

Watching fearfully from the entrance to Hogwarts Castle, Petunia Dursley prayed silently to whatever god or deity could be listening that the last remaining link to her poor, tragic sister did not meet the same wasteful end.

Harry Potter silently pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his robes, glancing back out of the corner of his eye as each and every following witch and wizard mirrored his action. As a single unit they all raised their wands, locking eyes with whatever Death Eater was closest to them at the time, and, at last, the final battle for the Wizarding World began with two words, coming not only from the lips of Harry Potter, but from every person who followed him: "For Dumbledore".

Harry didn't know how long curses flew around him. Seconds, minutes and hours seemed to have melted into one as he saw his comrades falling around him, and yet he forced himself to carry on fighting. They had already lost so many – Hagrid, Krum, Padma Patil, Dean Thomas, Arthur and Charlie Weasley, Oliver Wood, Mrs Figg, Dedalus Diggle, and so many that Harry did not know well enough to connect a name to. As the names swam through his mind, tears burned blindingly at Harry's eyes. Forcing them not to fall, though, Harry turned to face the next Death Eater, freezin as he found himself facing a shocking scene.

Lucius Malfoy was standing next to his son, grinning as Draco's wand pointed, in a shaking hand, at Harry. Draco's stormy grey eyes were wide and fearful, his usually pale skin now so white it was almost transparent.

"Kill him, Draco!" Lucius was ordering, an evil grin contorting his features. "Do to him what you were too weak to do to the old fool! Kill the boy!"

At the mention of his old headmaster, Draco's eyes narrowed angrily, and Harry saw them flicker from him to Lucius. His grip on his wand had become so tight Draco's knuckles were white – or rather, even whiter than the rest of his skin. Harry was just raising his wand, preparing to defend himself against an attack he was positive would come – surely Draco would want to prove himself to his father – when, suddenly, the unbelievable happened, so fast, Harry reeled backwards in shock.

Draco Malfoy spun around, his hand perfectly steady, pointing his wand at his father. Lucius's eyes widened, shocked, as Draco opened his mouth. "I'm not weak, Lucius." He held his head high, watching his father rapidly regaining his composure. Before he could though, Draco spoke again: "_Avada Kedavra_."

Lucius Malfoy fell, dead, to the ground, his eyes staring, unseeing, as his son stepped up to his lifeless body, speaking slowly. "For Dumbledore. Not killing him was a sign of strength, not weakness."

Draco looked up at Harry, grey meeting green for a split second, before he disappeared into the battle, attacking the first Death Eater he came across.

It took a moment for Harry to shake off the shock of what he had witnessed, but when he did, he through himself back into the battle, fighting Death Eater after Death Eater as he made his way towards Lord Voldemort at the side of the lake.

Eventually, though, he reached him.

As he turned to face his young adversary, Lord Voldemort's snake-like face twisted into a malicious grin. No words were exchanged though; no taunts or provocation. The two just silently threw themselves into the battle. The Boy Who Lived against the Dark Lord in one final fight to the death. It had to end that night, on that dark Halloween night, the seventeenth anniversary of the murders of Lily and James, the seventeenth anniversary of Voldemort's first defeat. Neither can live while the other survives, and, at last, on that deathly Hallows, as their followers and friends fought and died around them, they would decide which would live, and which would die.

As they each threw, dodged and blocked curses, Harry found himself smiling to himself: Voldemort didn't know. He still thought he was immortal; but he was wrong. Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent over a year searching for the remaining horcruxes. Finding Slytherin's locket in the Hog's Head – Mundungus Fletcher had sold it on to Aberforth Dumbledore after stealing it from the Black House – and destroying it, the trio had then found and destroyed Hufflepuff's cup at Godric's Hollow and destroyed that, and had destroyed Nagini just the day before the final battle, having found her slithering around in the Forbidden Forest as they checked the grounds for Lord Voldemort prior to the final battle. The piece of Lord Voldemort's soul they had expected to reside in something of Gryffindor's had, they had discovered, been under their noses the whole time – Godric Gryffindor's sword.

So, they now found themselves in an equal battle, although Lord Vodlemort did not know that. Unlike the last times they had met, neither was safe from death. Either one could win this battle.

Harry rose his wand high into the air, his lips forming the words "_Petrificus Totalus_" just as Voldemort spoke the words "_Avada Kedavra_". Just like had happened three and a half years earlier, the brother wands were suddenly locked together, vibrating violently in their hands, connected by that single thread of bright gold light. They were lifted off the ground, as if they weighed nothing at all, and moved away from the battle; the battle that had come to a standstill, the surviving fighters from both sides watching as the two wizards were lowered to the ground away from them.

Once again, Harry watched as the beam of light split, forming a cage of golden light around them, and, once again, Harry heard the beautiful sound of phoenix song fill his ears. This time, however, for a brief moment, it filled him not with hope, but with grief. This was the sound he associated with Dumbledore, the sound that had filled the air, breaking his heart after his cherished mentor's death. Harry closed his eyes against the tears that threatened once again to fall. How could this sound be a sound of hope to him now?

'_Because it tells you I am still with you.' _ A voice echoed around the scene, and Harry's eyes snapped open in shock, just as Lord Voldemort, recognised the voice, looked around stunned. _'I will never truly be gone as long as those who remain are loyal to me. You yourself said that. Twice, I believe. Don't give up, Harry. Don't let your grief be a hindrance for you; let it be an incentive.'_

There was complete silence. Slowly, Harry raised his eyes, until his gaze finally snapped up to meet Lord Voldemort's. Gritting his teeth furiously, Harry pushed with all his might, holding his wand in one hand, forcing the small bead of light that had suddenly appeared towards Lord Voldemort's wand. Gradually, despite the effort Lord Voldemort was putting into the same task, the light edged closer and closer to the Dark Lord's wand, before, finally, it connected.

Screams of pain were emitted from Voldemort's wand, filling the air around the scene, echoes of the numerous Cruciatus curses that Lord Voldemort had cast since his return. Shadowy figure after shadowy figure emerged from the wand, unrecognised by Harry – the figures of Voldemort's most recent victims, and then more screams, closely followed by the ghost of the silver hand Lord Voldemort had made for Wormtail over three years ago. Then, his heart skipping a beat, Harry saw the wispy, shadowy figure of Cedric Diggory emerge.

"Hold on." The figure said quietly, standing alongside the pair. "You deserve to win this."

Cedric's voice was drowned out by the echo of yet more screams, before, once again, Harry saw the shadow of the elderly muggle Frank Bryce. This time, he did not speak to either Harry or Lord Voldemort. Nor did the figure of Bertha Jorkins, who emerged next, simply narrowing her eyes coldly at Lord Voldemort.

The next two figures were the ones Harry had been waiting for the most, the ones he had counted this whole battle upon. Slowly, the form of Harry's mother, Lily Potter, emerged from Lord Voldemort's wand, straightening up to stand silently, defiantly, beside her son.

She was followed by her husband. James Potter emerged from the wand, briefly looking proudly at his son, before standing on Harry's other side, both him and Lily waiting for their cue.

That was the moment Harry had been waiting for. Holding his wand in his right hand, he reached, as fast as he could, inside his robes, and pulled out two wands, one an eleven inch mahogany wand, the other a ten-and-a-quarter inch willow wand. Holding both wands in his left hand, Harry pointed them at Lord Voldemort, as Lily and James rushed towards him, wrapping both of their ghostly hands around the wands they carried in life. Harry's head started to swim as he felt the love for him they were pouring into their task flow through the wand and into him. It was as if his mother's protection was pouring into him once again, this time joined by similar protection from his father. With a brief glance at eachother, Lily, James and Harry Potter all spoke together: _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The Killing Curse, with the strength of all three casters, fired towards Lord Voldemort, who was still immobilised by the _prior incantatem_. It hit him, square in the chest, and threw him backwards, breaking the link.

"I love you, Harry." Lily said to Harry, diverting his gaze from a stunned looking Voldemort. "We both do." James nodded in agreement, smiling happily at Harry. "And we're both _so _proud of you. Remember that. No matter what, we will _always _love you."

At that moment, Voldemort's body appeared to explode. A wave of blinding green light burst from his remains, engulfing everybody on Hogwarts grounds. Harry watched, stunned, as everybody from both sides fell to the ground, as if they, too, had been hit by the Killing Curse. Confused by what had happened, Harry barely noticed as he himself fell to the ground, his eyes resting on the horrified faces of his parents as they tried to rush to him, fading rapidly as they did. Before they could reach him, they were gone.

Harry rolled over, his eyes falling on Dumbledore's tomb, standing barely two metres from him. Dumbledore, even after death, had managed to help Harry defeat Voldemort. As his vision began to fade, and his heart began to slow, Harry managed to form two words: "For Dumbledore."

Harry opened his eyes groggily, blinking against the light that met them. He was still lying on the battlefield next to Dumbledore's tomb. Feeling disorientated, one thought found its way into his clouded brain. They had won. Voldemort was dead, and they had won. Then, suddenly, he noticed the scene around him.

It was eerily quiet. The grounds were completely silent – not even a bird was singing. Surely he wasn't the first to come around.HHhhh Standing up slowly, Harry surveyed the scene, stepping slowly around the motionless figures on the ground. When he came to Ron and Hermione, lying next to each other, he knelt down, touching his fingers to Hermione's cold, ghostly pale throat, searching for a pulse. He didn't find one. Panicking, Harry rushed from body to body, the feeling of cold skin when he touched their throats telling him that he would not find a pulse. For hours he walked around, searching every body for a sign of life. But there was nothing. They were all dead.

The final curse that had killed Lord Voldemort had engulfed the whole scene, killing everybody there. Harry had survived, just as he had seventeen years earlier, because of the protection he had felt flowing into him through his parents' wands. Now, though, he was alone.

So many people had died: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Molly, Arthur, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavendar, Parvati, Padma, Luna, Malfoy, McGonagall, Sprout, Hooch, Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid, Aunt Petunia, Lupin, Tonks… the list went on and on, echoing over and over in Harry's head, until, finding himself once again next to Hermione and Ron, he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He had come into the battle with so much hope, hope that, although he knew there would be deaths, that he and his friends, at least, would survive. But they were at the centre of today's events. How could he have hoped they would survive? They were dealing with pure evil, and evil doesn't come for the extras. It comes for the main characters. Today, though, Harry found himself thinking, evil had taken everybody.

On that day, that Deathly Hallows, evil had come and left Harry alone. Voldemort may have been defeated, but there was no-one Harry knew left to share his victory. Harry was alone, just Harry Potter, and his scar.

_The End_

A/N: So what do you think? I have to admit I cried so much writing this. I just think this is how the HP7 title sounds. Pretty grim for everyone.


End file.
